


More Than Biology and Chemistry

by imanadultiguess



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mentions of Abortion, Mentions of Rape, Mpreg, Omega Mycroft, Parent!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3157115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanadultiguess/pseuds/imanadultiguess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft worries that Greg will reject the child formed against his will.  Greg spends the rest of their lives showing him he is more than his Alpha biology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Biology and Chemistry

Mycroft has gathered the Unbonding paper work, scheduled an appointment with his GP for a blood cleansing, even looked up a few therapists should he find himself in need of one. It will be a painful ordeal, he knows, because Unbonding is unnatural, but he will handle it with the same grace and decorum as he does every other crisis in his life.

At least, that's what he tells himself. What he hopes. 

He stares at the wall, willing away any memories of "The Event" in Denmark. He can't think about how wrong it felt to be mounted by Magnussen. He can't think about the possibility that he may in fact have a fertilized egg growing into a person inside of him. He can't think about how Greg will react when he smells Mangussen on him. In him. 

He will be alone, and it will be fine. He hadn't expected to be mated; Greg had simply been a pleasant surprise. He'd always known the risks his work involved, and he had been trained to process them accordingly. This was nothing he couldn't handle. 

"Oh my god," he hears his mate call from the hallway. "Where is he? Mycroft?" 

Mycroft smiles sadly. Greg would, it seemed, never obey the "no talking" rule upon which the Diogenes Club was founded. After today, he would have no reason to return. 

The door to his private room was thrown open and the silver-haired Alpha was on him in a flash, kissing him, scenting him, holding him. 

In that moment, Mycroft's heart breaks. He can't. He can't be the one to tell him. He'd ordered Anthea to inform the DI. He wants to melt into this man's affections, but he knows he must be upfront and honest. Lying will only make it more difficult. 

"Ahem," Mycroft says, pushing the Alpha away. "My apologies, Detective Inspector, I thought you had been informed. There was an incident in Denmark in which--" 

Greg's arms were wrapped around him again. "Oh, I know," he answers. "I know, love. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, love." His voice is soft and comforting and so painfully sincere, Mycroft wants to cry. 

"Greg," his voice cracks, "I don't think you understand." He pulls back again. "Magnussen violated our Bond." He clears his throat. Be formal, he tells himself. Formalities will get us through. "I was penetrated during an unexpected heat by someone who was not my mate." 

Greg growls, but it's not at him. "No, I know, sweetheart," he says, pulling his mate into his arms for the third time. "Anthea told me everything. It will be all right, Mycroft." 

Mycroft flounders for words. This was not what he was expecting. "Gregory, you've every right to Unbond. You're well within your rights as an Alpha to reject me--" 

Greg covers Mycroft's mouth. "Mycroft, I am more than my biology. Yes, I can smell him on you, and yes, it makes me sick, but--oh my God, Myc, you're back and you're safe, and I am never letting you go again." The Alpha's arms are so warm and welcoming and everything that makes Mycroft put his personal safety on the line to protect. This is his home, where he belongs. 

Please don't hurt me, Mycroft wants to say. If you take me back now, you can't send me away later. 

He keeps his mouth shut. His Alpha is holding him so tightly. It makes something shatter inside him, undoes years worth of training and repression, and the British Government weeps. 

___ 

At night, Gregory snuggles close to him, his arms and legs wrapped around the Omega like an octopus. Over the course of the week, Mycroft's scent morphs back into the scent he shares with his mate, the scent that signifies their bond, and Mycroft knows that their Bond is not in danger. 

But he panics a month later when his GP informs him that as a result of being mounted over the course of several days without protection, he has in fact become pregnant. He doesn't want to tell Gregory, doesn't want to lose his sweet Alpha, doesn't want to hurt him. 

Somehow, though, Greg finds out. His face is all alight, despite his best attempts to hide it. 

"I've already scheduled an appointment to terminate the pregnancy," Mycroft tells him. 

Greg's face darkens but he says nothing except "of course." 

\-- 

It's only a week later when Greg is watching Mycroft sign in at the OBGYN that he says, "Myc, do whatever it is that you want to do, but...please don't do this for me." 

Mycroft hesitates before looking up at his mate. "Gregory, you do not want to live with the offspring of some vile, dead man." 

"No, but I want to live with yours." 

"Absurd. Alphas don't raise the offspring of other Alphas." 

"I would, Myc. I would love her. I love her already." 

"Her?" Mycroft repeats with disdain. "Don't be absurd. It's still merely an embryo." 

Greg smiles, but it's a sad smile. He kisses Mycroft's forehead. "It's up to you, sweetheart." 

"Is this Catholic guilt?" Mycroft asks, off-handedly. 

"No," he answers. "I just...I would love her. Him. It." 

When Mycroft returns to the waiting room with a frown on his face, Greg is still waiting patiently. Mycroft feels ill at the decision he's just made. It can always be remedied, he tells himself. He doesn't tell Greg that he declined the procedure until later that night after Greg has curled up behind him, ready to settle in for the night. 

"Oh Myc!" the Alpha cries. "That's--that's great news!" 

Mycroft doubts that Greg understands what he's just committed to. 

___ 

Three months later, Greg is nesting, the way some Omegas do when they're expecting. He has never been a typical Alpha. He's spent his day off painting the room that will soon be a nursery. When Mycroft comes home, the Alpha has dinner ready. He's a giggling mess. He's sent ultrasound photos to his team of "his" little girl. To his Mum and Dad. To Mycroft's parents. To John and Sherlock. 

Mycroft can't help but tense every time Greg palms the swell of his belly, his reptile brain warning him that the Alpha will hurt the child that isn't his. 

This fear comes to a head during his sixth month when Mycroft's instincts wake him up, warning him that something is wrong, that the child inside him is in danger. He touches his belly only to find his mate's face there. "Gregory! What are you doing?" 

The DI flashes a boyish grin. "She was kicking. I thought maybe if I talked to her, she'd calm down. I dunno how you sleep through that." 

The politician doesn't feel any kicking. He tears himself away from the Alpha. "What were you really doing?" 

"What?" 

Mycroft rises from the bed. "This was a mistake." 

"Woah, what? What are you talking about?" 

"Stop it! Stop acting like it doesn't bother you that this abomination isn't yours!" 

Greg wilts. "Myc. Mycroft. What--" 

"It will always be in the back of your mind to murder the offspring of the man who challenged your claim--" 

Greg rolls his eyes. "Oh my god, Myc. Mycroft Holmes, get back in bed right now." 

"I'll do no such thing." 

"I don't have a claim on you. You're my mate. You accepted me, too, sweetheart. Stop being so archaic. It's 2014." 

"Social progress doesn't negate instinct and biology." 

"I'm not some mindless drone," Greg growls. "I am not a slave to my hormones. I would never hurt our little girl. Ever. I was so excited to feel her kicking, Myc, and you've completely ruined the mood." 

"She's not your little girl," he reminds him. 

"I love her," he says, his tone distinctly Alpha. "She is mine because she's growing inside of you. Because she's made of you. Because I love you so much, and I can't wait to meet the little girl that you are creating." 

Mycroft's heart shatters again. How does Greg manage to hit him beneath his armor? How does he find the right wording to make his stomach flip? "I love her, too, Gregory," he admits. "So, please, don't harm her." 

Greg gets up from the bed to pull Mycroft to his chest. "I could never. She's my little girl." 

__ 

Greg doesn't leave Mycroft's side through the delivery, despite the weird looks from the doctors and nurses. They aren't particularly keen on having an unrelated Alpha in the delivery room. They don't let him hold the little girl, whom Mycroft has named Wanda, after his mother. There's something distinctly Alpha about the look Greg gives them when they refuse to let him hold her. He growls. "Let me hold my little girl." The Alpha nurse puffs up his chest. Mycroft hates to admit it, but he doesn't want his mate to hold the infant either. In a moment of fury, he could snap its neck. 

_Her. Her neck,_ Mycroft reminds himself. She's perfect and beautiful and fragile and he wishes with everything in his being that she had Greg's DNA. She smells like Magnussen just as much as she smells like Mycroft. Surely this would send the Alpha into a rage. 

"I'm sorry but there's no reason for you to be here except that the mother has requested it." 

"Myc," Greg pleads, looking into his mate's eyes, "please." 

Mycroft's heart pounds, and his mouth feels dry, and it's too much after the trauma of just giving birth. He feels the blood drain from his face. How could he choose his mate's feelings over his child's safety? Greg must see the conflict on his face, because his shoulders droop, and he swoops to Mycroft's side, kissing his sweaty forehead. "It's--it's okay, Myc. We'll deal with it later. Just rest." 

Mycroft falls asleep, surrounded by the scent of his Alpha, feeling warm and safe and exhausted. 

__ 

Greg wrinkles his nose the first time he holds Wanda, and Mycroft feels the panic rising up in his chest, knowing that the Alpha smells Magnussen. He's relieved when Greg nuzzles his cheek against the infant's, trying to rub his scent off on her. The baby laughs at the feeling of Greg's stubbly face. Greg laughs too. "Hey there, pretty girl," he coos. "You've got your mummy's eyes, don't you?" 

Mycroft doesn't want to smile, doesn't want to give into what may be a fleeting joy. He knows that Greg's hindbrain will always want to destroy the evidence of his mate's rape. But when Greg looks at him with that boyish grin, and says, "Sorta looks like a tomato, doesn't she?" Mycroft can't stop laughing. 

__ 

Greg is upset at Mycroft's decision to return to work so soon, despite Mycroft's reassurances that the nanny he's picked out is perfectly capable of handling Wanda. 

"I don't want my daughter to be raised by a stranger!" Greg insists, clutching the baby to his chest. Wanda seems completely at ease. 

Mycroft hadn't expected such a sexist sentiment from his husband. He plants his feet firmly on the ground, using his height to tower over him. "If you want someone to stay home with the child, you are more than welcome to do so, but I will not be the one to do so. My work, as I've said before, is to protect the lives of millions, not just my family's." 

Greg looks as though he's been slapped. Mycroft prepares for a fight. "Right," Greg says, "I don't know why I didn't think of that. I'll turn in my two weeks notice tomorrow." 

Mycroft is floored. Greg turn his attention back to Wanda. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, cub?" he coos. "You can stay home with Daddy and watch footie and drink beer." He winks at Mycroft when he says the last bit. 

__ 

Greg misses his retirement party because Wanda was sick. It didn't matter that John was taking care of her, or that Mrs. Hudson was fussing over her like a grandfather. "I think she just misses her mummy," Greg told them as he patted Wanda's back. She'd cried herself to sleep. 

"Likely," Sherlock said without looking up from his experiment. "Your scent doesn't match hers. She's in defense mode and has been since Mycroft's romp to Cuba." 

Greg hurls his shoe at him, clocking him in the cheek. "Oi, keep it down," he hisses. "She's finally asleep." 

__ 

Mycroft calls every chance he gets, and it's not just Greg. He's calling Anthea, John, The Queen, his parents, et cetera. Even with the nanny-cams and his ability to watch both his mate and his infant from his laptop and his phone, he is uneasy. There is a ten second delay after all, and it wouldn't take long for the Alpha to decide he'd had enough and-- 

He can't think about it. He can't think about a tiny coffin for his tiny daughter because he left her with an Alpha that isn't her father. 

As if on cue, he receives a video text from Anthea with the message, _Relax, boss. Your Alpha's a right Daddy. ;)_

The video is a ten second clip of Greg blowing raspberries on the baby's tummy, making her giggle. 

_Are you on site?_

_Yes sir._

_Don't leave the premises until I call you._ __ The panic that is becoming all too familiar sets in again when Mycroft returns home to find the house empty. He calls Greg's phone, but he doesn't answer. 

_Where the hell is my daughter?_

_Greg took her to your parents' house._

_And you let him?! Anthea, you're fired._

He doesn't check his phone when the ping notifies him that his assistant has texted him back. He doesn't bother to wait for his driver. He simply grabs the keys, and speeds to Bracknell. His heart is racing. His sweaty palms make it difficult to manage some of the curvier roads. A tremor has developed in his right hand. 

He barely remembers to put the vehicle in park before jumping out and dashing through the door to his parents' home. "Where the hell is Wanda?" 

"Right here, dear, but I don't think you're looking for me," his mother chirps, looking up from chopping peppers. 

Mycroft sneers. "My daughter, mother. Where is my daughter?" 

"Timothy," she calls, stirring her husband is asleep in an armchair. "Timothy, tap Greg." 

Mycroft peers into the living room, where Greg is sprawled out on the floor, earbuds in and Wanda sound asleep on his chest. Mycroft feels that his legs will give out from relief. He tries to catch his breath, tries not to cry. 

Greg removes the earbuds when his father-in-law toes his side. "Wha-? Oh! Hi Mycroft!" He gets to his feet. "S'wrong?" His face melts from joy to worry. He hands the baby to Timothy, scurrying over to his love. "What happened? Are you all right?" 

Feeling his hands wrapped in Greg's makes Mycroft feel like a complete arse. His heart still skips a beat when the Alpha touches him after he's been away for a few weeks. Mycroft can't find his voice to answer. 

Greg kisses his fingertips. "S'all right, sweetheart. You can't talk about work, I know." He kisses his lips, but Mycroft can't think to kiss him back. "Come see our little girl." 

Something inside of Mycroft breaks, and he's shouting. "For God's sake, Gregory Lestrade, she's not yours! Do you understand?! You can't just take her wherever you want because she's not yours! She's mine and mine alone! Stop! Stop touching her! Stop calling her ours!" 

Greg, sweet Greg who wears his heart on his sleeve, takes a seat on the sofa, his mouth agape. He is pale. His heart is broken, and it's painfully obvious to everyone in the room. 

"Not his?" Wanda the Grandmother shouts from the kitchen. "What the hell do you mean, not his?" 

Timothy looks equally as upset. "You violated your Bond?" 

Greg licks his lips, trying to hold back the fury. "You didn't tell them?" 

"Oh Greg, dear," Wanda says, swooping into the room, "I'm so sorry, dear. It's not you, it's him. He's never been to handle affection and sometimes--" 

Mycroft shuts his eyes. _Damn._ He doesn't want to explain the situation to his mother. Frankly, aside from being traumatic, it was embarrassing. And she would insist on counseling, which was completely unnecessary because he was perfectly fine. 

"He was raped," Greg interrupts. "Why the hell wouldn't you tell them that?" 

"Why the hell would you?" Mycroft shoots back. "It's my business, not yours!" 

There are tears in Greg's eyes. "Is that--" He shakes his head. "I'm not having this conversation here. I'll--I'll see you at home." 

l The baby begins crying. Greg presses a kiss to her forehead before brushing past Mycroft. "I'll put the carseat in your car," he says curtly before shutting the door. 

\-- 

Wanda smells like Greg, there's no denying it. She's spent every single day with him since her birth, and the scent of Magnussen is hardly noticeable now. Mycroft can almost pretend she's Greg's daughter when he buckles her into his carseat. 

Greg has some formula ready for the baby when he arrives home. He doesn't look at Mycroft when he walks through the door. When Wanda is asleep, Mycroft takes a sit beside Greg. 

Greg doesn't say anything. Mycroft isn't sure how to feel. He's torn between his mate and his child and it makes him ill. 

"I'm pissed off," Greg finally manages. "Is that how you see me, Mycroft?" 

"Elaborate, Gregory, I'm not a mindreader." 

"Obviously not, otherwise you'd know I have no intention of hurting our baby. Oh, I'm sorry, _your_ baby." 

"Don't mock me, Gregory." 

Gregory laughs coldly. He scrubs at his face. "I'm just a rutting brute to you, aren't I? I may not be the genius that you are, but I'm not an idiot. I'm just a raging testosterone animal to you. Thank God you're around to keep me in line! Otherwise I might fuck everything that ovulates and eat all the babies that aren't mine!" 

"Gregory, don't be absurd, it's simple biology--" 

"No! No it isn't! When you went into heat in Denmark--" 

Mycroft feels a cold sweat break over him. 

"--did you just present yourself to anything with a knot?" 

"Of course not!" Mycroft hisses, indignant. 

"Why not? It's simple science that an Omega in heat will seek out a mate, isn't it?" 

"It's different--" 

"Because it's you, right? Because you're a Holmes so you're immune to the afflictions that affect all us goldfish!" 

Mycroft glares at him, choosing his words carefully. "As an omega, I'm offended that you think that a heat morphs me into some kind of tart for public use." 

"I'm offended that you think that I, as an Alpha, morph into some kind of--I don't know--animal. I am not just my biology and my instincts, Mycroft Holmes! I was married to a fucking Beta for twenty years! I never cheated! Do you know how many Omegas come through the station _in heat_? Several! Do you know how many I even considered sleeping with? _None._ How--How dare you--" He cuts himself off when he realizes that he is shouting. "I thought you loved me, Mycroft." 

The broken look on Greg's face is too much for Mycroft. His poor, sweet Alpha. He reaches out to contradict him. "Of course I love you." 

"Maybe 'love' isn't the right word. Trust. You don't trust me. I'm just a companion with a knot. You don't trust me to take care of the things that are important to you. You don't trust me to be a father to our daughter. You don't trust me to be anything but a slave to my instincts." 

"I work with Alphas all day, Gregory. You must understand--" 

"No, you work with politicians. Don't mistake their sliminess for Alpha behavior. The Alpha instincts are to protect and provide. This nonsense about claiming and ownership and violence and all that other nonsense is absolute bullshit, and I thought I meant more to you than that." 

__ 

Mycroft agrees to couple's counseling. The therapist insists that Mycroft seek further counseling to help him cope with the trauma of "The Event" in Denmark. 

Every day, Wanda smells less and less like Magnussen and more and more like Greg. Mycroft finds great comfort in this. 

When Wanda is 9 months old, she laughs just like Gregory. 

When Wanda is a year old, she goes to spend the weekend of John and Sherlock so that Greg and Mycroft can have some private time. It will be the first heat that Mycroft hasn't suppressed since "The Event." 

"Oh my, but she looks just like Lestrade, doesn't she, Sherlock?" John remarks. 

"Mimicking his expressions, probably. It's formed her face to look more like his," Sherlock answers. Its clear that he is also confused by the family dynamics. Alphas don't raise the offspring of other Alphas, after all. "Nature's attempt at endearing the child to the unrelated Alpha?" 

Mycroft smiles. He hadn't noticed it until John pointed it out, but his daughter is starting to look like Greg. 

__ 

When Wanda is five, Mycroft blackmails Sherlock into giving Wanda violin lessons. Wanda is fluent in Hindi, Russian, and French. She's just as smart as Mycroft. 

They never discuss the fact that Charles August Magnussen is her biological father. 

Greg coaches Wanda's kiddie soccer team when she is five. None of the other parents can smell the difference in their genes. None of them give him strange looks. When Mycroft comes to her first game, he realizes that the other parents have assumed that Greg is an Omega, wearing Alpha-scented cologne. Greg seems oblivious. When Mycroft tells him, Greg laughs. 

"It doesn't bother you?" Mycroft asks after the lights in their bedroom have been turned off. 

"Why should it?" Greg purrs in his ear. "You seem fairly satisfied with my Alpha-hood. That's all that matters." 

__ 

Joseph is born when Wanda is six, and Mycroft finds himself spiraling into anxiety once more. He worries that Greg will love the son that is actually his more than the daughter that isn't. He worries that he'll have to explain to Wanda why Joseph is their father's favorite. He worries that he'll have to explain to Wanda why Joseph smells different than her. (Unfortunately, Wanda seems to have the same tactlessness that plagues her uncle, and she often comments on the scents of others. Specifically asking an Alpha why his Omega mate smelled like a Beta, thus revealing a torrid affair right in the center of the grocery store.) 

When Joseph is six months old, and Wanda has just turned seven, they attend the funeral of Greg's brother, who died after a long battle of skin cancer. On the way home, Greg is reading something on his phone. When Mycroft inquires about it, Greg tells him, "I'm reading about skin cancer. My aunt told me there's a genetic factor to it. If that's true, and the internet says it is, we should probably put sunscreen on Wanda before she goes outside." 

Mycroft peers into the rearview mirror. Wanda and Joseph are sound asleep in the backseat. His heart hurts. They both resemble Greg in one way or another. 

"Wanda doesn't...share your genetics," Mycroft reminds him. 

Greg blinks, looking up from his phone. "Oh. Right. Well, sunscreen is still probably a good idea." 

__ 

"There are too many bodies in this bed," Mycroft groans. 

Wanda laughs that laugh she learned from Gregory. "No, Mummy, there's just enough room." 

The lightning flashes through the curtain again, and three-year-old Joseph braces himself for the inevitable clap of thunder. 

"You've no reason to be in here," Mycroft tells her. "You're not afraid of storms." 

Mycroft hates to admit it, even if it's just to himself, but he's uncomfortable having Wanda sleep in their bed. Greg's not her father. There's no genetic predisposition to keep him from-- 

He shakes the thought away. Nonetheless, he keeps her on his side of the bed, separated by his body and her brother's. 

Joseph yelps when the loud boom of thunder sounds across the sky. 

"Oh be quiet, you big baby," Wanda snaps. 

Mycroft glares at her. "Is that polite, little miss?" 

"Daddy," Wanda says, crawling over her mother and brother to poke Greg in the back. "Daddy, let's go outside and watch the storm." 

"No!" Joseph shouts. "You'll get eated!" 

Greg is sound asleep. 

"Daddyyyyyy!" Wanda screeches. 

Greg shoots up, eyes bleary. "Whasswrong?" He pulls Wanda closer to him. "Whassgoin' on?" 

"Let's go outside and watch the storm." 

Greg chuckles. "Let's not, little miss. Let's stay inside where it's warm and cozy." He wraps his arms around her and shuts his eyes. 

"Dere's monksters ousside," Joseph whispers to his mum. 

Mycroft doesn't sleep for most of the night. He's relieved when Greg wakes up to get Wanda ready for school. He wishes he trusted his husband. 

\-- 

Two years later, Greg is filling out paper work for Joseph's school. He's got a scowl on his face. 

"Is something amiss Gregory?" 

"It's asking about Joseph's medical history. It's asking about genetic anamolies. Do we know if Magnussen had any sort of--I mean, the doctors would've mentioned it, right? I just can't remember." He scrubs his face. "Wish I'd met you earlier. I'm too old to have a five-year-old," he says somewhat bashfully. "Can't remember the little things." 

"Wanda's the...product of 'The Event.' Joseph is yours." 

Greg sits back, looking baffled. "Right. Right, sorry. He just looks so much like you." He looks to Mycroft with a crooked smile. "They're both mine, Myc." 

Mycroft returns the smile. "Yes, I suppose they are." 

\-- 

Mycroft is in China when he gets a text from Wanda. 

_Oh my god, i hate u so muchhhhhh!_

_Don't be such a diva, dear. You're worse than your uncle._

_I just started my heeeeeat and it is misery!!_

The panic that Mycroft hadn't felt in nearly five years slams into him like a tidal wave, and he can't breathe. His daughter is in heat. Her first heat. Her first heat, and she's with an Alpha that isn't her father. He hadn't even considered that she would present as an omega. She was so bossy and conniving and strong--how could she be an omega? 

He excuses himself from the meeting to call his husband. 

"Don't return home," he orders. 

"I have to, sweetheart. I just got Wanda one of those...er, things to help her get through her, you know." 

Mycroft snarls into the phone. "I beg your pardon?!" 

"One of those toys, you know with the inflatable knots," Greg whispers. 

"We are not giving her one of those!" 

"She's miserable, Myc! The doctor said this is the best way to deal with it." 

"You're buying a teenage girl a dildo; do you understand how inappropriate that is?" 

"How did you deal with your first heat?" 

Mycroft feels himself blush all over. "I--I didn't have a toy, that's for damn sure." 

"What? Poor Mycy, dealing with his heat all by himself." Greg sounds genuinely sympathetic. 

"A, erm, a broomstick may have been involved." 

Greg bursts into hysterical laughing. Mycroft tells him to shut up. 

"Well, I certainly don't want that for Wanda," Greg says when he can speak again. "It'll be fine. I got some ice packs, some hormone suppressants and some sanitizer." 

"Don't...don't do anything..." Mycroft hesitates. "She's...just a child." 

There's a long silence over the phone. "Sorry, what?" Greg's voice is upset, but he hasn't made the jump to anger just yet. 

"She's...she's not your daughter, so there's nothing to keep your hormones from--" 

"Oh my fucking God," Greg fumes into the phone. 

"You must understand my concern--" 

"No, no I don't. You think I would--that's sick. You're a sick man, Myc." 

"Gregory--" 

"She'll be fine. I'll call you later, when I'm not so fucking pissed off at you." Greg hangs up, and he doesn't answer when Mycroft tries to call him back. 

__ 

Eight-year-old Joseph looks mortified when his mother returns home. He hugs him tight. "Something's wrong and no one will tell me what." 

"It's all right, dear. Where's your father?" 

"Upstairs with--" 

Mycroft is dashing for Wanda's room before Joseph finishes his sentence. Of course, of course this would happen. He never should've stayed with Gregory. He should've quit his job and stayed home with his daughter. There were so many things he wishes he could redo. How could he have been so stupid as to put his child in danger? And now she'll know...she'll know what it's like to be mounted against her will. 

He throws open the door, acutely aware of the lack of the smell of heat. Greg is sitting beside Wanda, his arm on her shoulder while she cries. 

"Oh my God, mother! Don't you ever knock?!" 

"What is it? What's wrong? Gregory, get away from her!" 

Greg's glare should have killed him, but he is still too high on adrenaline. 

"Mum! Get out!" 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" 

She rolls her eyes, the way only a fifteen-year-old can. "Christ! Ugh, there was this guy at school," she sobs, "and we were getting pretty serious and then he broke up with me because I presented. He said he only wanted to date Betas. Now will you please get out?!" 

__ 

Greg doesn't talk to Mycroft that night. He sleeps on the sofa in the library. 

Mycroft finds out from Joseph that Wanda's heat only lasted about 12 hours. John seemed to think that this was completely normal, considering it was her first heat. Her cycles wouldn't stabilize until she was probably seventeen. 

The next night, Greg comes into their bed. "I'm still very cross with you." 

"I--I apologize, my love. I don't know what came over me. It's just--" 

"I know. It's...it's okay. Well, not okay, but I think I understand. An unexpected heat, not being where you thought you would be--it makes sense that it would trigger you. But...trust me, please? I would never do anything to hurt the rugrats, and I thought I'd proven that to you." 

"I was not 'triggered.' I am perfectly fine." 

"Myc, I've never given you reason not to trust me...but you seem so caught up on my gender. It kills me. Do you understand?" 

"It's just in your nature, Gregory. Alphas are...destructive and impulsive." 

"No, sweetheart, we aren't. Before the kids were born, did I ever make you feel unsafe? Did you ever feel like I so much as pressured you to mate or bond when we were dating?" 

Mycroft sighs. "No. No. I forget sometimes that you're a good man. A good Alpha." He curls up to his mate and murmurs apologies until Greg strokes his hair and kisses him good night. 

\-- 

"Oi, what happened?!" Greg demands when he sees Wanda helping her father up the driveway. 

"Mum's not as fast as he used to be," Wanda teases. 

"Oh my God, Myc, we're too old for this shit. And now you've put our daughter at risk!" 

Wanda flashes a winning smile. "I'm damn good at what I do, dad." 

"She'll run MI6 one day," Mycroft tells his husband as he limps past him. 

"Not if she's late for Joseph's graduation," Greg teases. "Where's your husband? Is he coming?" 

"Probably not. Morning sickness and all that." 

Mycroft winces sympathetically. "I don't miss that." He glares at his daughter. "At least get changed. You're not going to the ceremony in jeans." 

Wanda raises an eyebrow, accepting the challenge. "I'll do what I want. I've gotta go get Uncle Sherlock and Aunt John, though. I'll meet you at the school." She kisses her father's cheek. 

"You worry me," Greg says, helping Mycroft to an armchair. "Don't you think it's time to retire?" 

"Unfortunately, I think you're right. I've been grooming Anthea to take the position for years. I suppose I should put that training to good use." 

Greg cups his cheek, bringing him in for a kiss. "Come on, love, I don't want to be late." 

Mycroft smiles, looking at a photo of baby Joseph on the table. "They both look just like you, you know?" 

Greg kisses him again. "They both have your eyes though. Come on, sweetheart. Up we go." He hoists his mate to his feet. 

"I can't believe our Omega daughter married another Omega, and they are expecting a child." 

"I can't believe our Alpha son is graduating from university. When he started dating Donovan's boy, I thought for sure they'd kill each other. Did I tell you I caught them in the closet at the Christmas party? Going at it like dogs. Didn't know that two Alphas could go at it like that without one of them dying from exhaustion." 

"Well, I suppose they get that from you." 

"What's that?" 

"Defying stereotypes. Breaking the chains of their biology." He kisses his mate's cheek. "They couldn't have had a better father."


End file.
